


Something Like Amortentia

by ThisPeep



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Potterlock, Teenlock, Viclock, i swear its viclock, just bare through the beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 08:19:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1104569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisPeep/pseuds/ThisPeep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock left classes, and stumbled upon something he soon regretted. Maybe it'll all work out, though...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Like Amortentia

Sherlock had ditched potions; it was if the teacher didn’t know that Sherlock had memorized everything he was teaching already. Moron. So now he was wandering the halls, hoping to come across something interesting. 

What he did find, though, shouldn’t have been interesting to him. He really had no reason to care at all; it was the thing of idiotic gossip. But he did care; he felt a flare of something he would later realize was jealousy. They didn’t notice him, obviously. Far too wrapped up in each other to see him gazing from around the corner, frozen in surprise and from atypical emotions.

Sherlock’s brain snapped back to the level of at least functioning, and he turned to (stealthily) sneak down back the hall he came from. Sherlock pressed his back against a wall, slowly sliding down it until he was crouching. Soon his hands were pressed against his temples, and he fighting to quell the feeling of acute disappointment twisting in his gut. Disappointment, jealousy, hatred, desperation, the irrational feeling of being betrayed. Not all directed at the same person.

His mind trailed back to the scene, not unusual seeing as lots of the time he had trouble controlling it. What happened was just so… unexpected. With was odd. Sherlock expected everything. Well, except when it came to Victor. But still, kissing Jim? Pressed up against a wall by Moriarty of all people? Draping his arms over Moriarty’s shoulders? Why _him_?

Why not me? Sherlock thought begrudgingly, startling himself with the thought. Was he… of course he was. How could Sherlock have been so stupid? He was always a bit slow when it came to emotions, but he could generally figure out what he was feeling. True, that was usually nothing or vague annoyance. Boredom. Rarely entertainment, which was only brought on by murder, John, or Victor. Mostly Victor. Well, apparently not just entertainment was what Victor drew from Sherlock. Sherlock’s temper flared, sparking and burning at Moriarty. He didn’t deserve Victor! 

Then again, neither do I. Sherlock relented, looking back on his behavior. He was testy and rude, demeaning and sharp. He’d done nothing to be even slightly good enough for Victor. Moriarty, at least, had been nice. Perhaps Victor was better off with him. Sherlock sighed, shaking his head. For now, he wouldn’t do anything.

The moment Moriarty did something wrong, the second Victor was unhappy, then he would allow himself to act. Until that happened, though, Sherlock would let Victor be happy. Victor deserved that from Sherlock, at the very least.

Slumped against a wall and away from the main halls, that how John found him. Thankfully he stayed silent, simply joining Sherlock on the floor. Sherlock was loathe to speak, and John respected his distaste for it.

“Victor and Moriarty?” John asked, showing his often helpful insight into Sherlock. At least John referred to Moriarty by last name, so he didn’t view him as a friend. If he knew about the relationship and still used Moriarty’s last name, John wasn’t supportive of it. That helped.

Sherlock sighed, letting his brain say what it happened to be thinking in response. “I do believe I may be an idiot.” Was apparently what was pressing on his mind, which Sherlock found himself to regret saying. John gave a half-hearted smile, putting his arm around Sherlock’s shoulders.

Sherlock let out a sharp huff, but didn’t flinch away from the touch. They stayed in the quiet a while longer, before John stood up and held out a hand for Sherlock. To John’s surprise, Sherlock took it, and let himself be led back to his room. John have him a supportive smile, and then let to go to the Gryffindor rooms.

Sherlock steeled himself, and then opened the door with his curtly given password. When he slipped into the common room, he was glad to find it was obviously missing one Victor. No one tried to snare Sherlock in a conversation, and he went to his room. He had his own, smaller one. Mycroft had his uses.

~*~*~*~*~

The next day, Sherlock heard his door open and close, with the fluid confidence in being accepted that left only one possibility for who it could be: Victor. Back from classes, and apparently not off with his new boyfriend. He sat down at the end of Sherlock bed with a deep sigh.

Sigh, a sigh like that meant unhappy. Sherlock opened his eyes, casting his focus to Victor. Leaning back on his elbow, hand running through his hair, he was stressed. Sherlock felt his emotions conflict, even and equally matched. He ignored them, pushing himself into a sitting position.

“Boy troubles?” Sherlock asked, a mocking tone edging his voice. He hadn’t meant for it to sound directed at Victor, but more towards people who actually phrased such questions in that matter. The question held a small, yet very identifiable edge. Victor’s eyes widened and dropped to the floor, his posture shifting to defensive and wary.

“No. Yes. Sort of. You know?” The words spilled out of Victor’s mouth, taken from different section of his rapid train of thought. He skipped the connecting thoughts, using just the ones that stood out the most.

Sherlock paused, being as this is were he would typically give a scoff and say “Obviously.”, possibly gesturing to himself in some sort of subtly motion. He couldn’t though, not to Victor, not under these circumstances. A wave of pain caught him off guard, and he barely trusted himself to speak, let alone come off as pompous. So instead he said, “Yes.” In a soft voice, sounding unbearably pathetic to his own ears. 

“Oh.” Was the only reply, equally soft and equally pathetic. More scared, less self pitying then Sherlock’s voice though. Sherlock toyed with the idea of comforting Victor in some way, but couldn’t think of the proper way to do it and his throat was itching to ask the question that had been plaguing him since he found out.

“Why Moriarty?” He asked, causing Victor to finally look at him. Sherlock swallowed, now that the question was out there he couldn’t take it back. “Just- out of everybody. Why Moriarty?” Sherlock added, feeling the need to clarify what he knew didn’t need clarifying.

“He’s… smart. And.... funny.” Victor offered, sounds completely unsure of his own words. No one would have believed him, not even someone as gullible as that Molly girl. Sherlock scowled.

“Don’t try to lie, Victor. It doesn’t suit you.” He ground out, hating himself for wanting to know. The last thing he needed right now was to hear Victor praise Moriarty, truthful and soppily happy. Sherlock wanted that as much as he wanted to be stuck in a while room for the rest of his life, but he needed to know why.

Victor rolled his eyes. “Yes, thank you Sherls.” He replied, pushing the conversation in a different direction skillfully. It didn’t work against Sherlock, who was not set on getting the reason. Especially because Victor was putting so much effort into keeping it.

“Just tell me why!” Sherlock said, crossing his arms stubbornly for good measure. Sherlock glared at him, which usually got him answers from Victor. Victor reacted quickly.

“Because he’s the closest thing I can get to you!” Victor snapped, words coming out biting and unexpected. They stunned him and Sherlock into a stretch of silence, neither moving, both barely breathing, and anticipation dampening the air.

Sherlock was the first to speak. “Me?” Was the only thing he said, and the space around got freed of the tension. Victor sighed, suddenly sounding tired and resigned. Unlike his usual self.

“Of course you, Sherlock. There’s never been anyone but you.” He replied. Sherlock stared at him for a good while longer, processing and checking and rechecking what Victor had said. What he had actually said, and what he had been obviously telling the truth by saying. There was no teasing or lightheartedness left in his speech, even going to the point where he used Sherlock’s full name. Which never happened, not since they first met. He had meant it.

Sherlock leaned forward, pulling Victor towards him by the lapels of his robe. At first, it was a kiss stolen. A kiss stolen in the sense of it was light and soft and one-sided. Then it was a kiss shared, because Victor wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s waist and moved his lips, shattering the one-sided part.

“It’s dangerous to kiss on a bed.” Sherlock mumbled, lips still touching Victor’s. They just weren’t kissing anymore, because breathing was a necessary thing for survival. Victor raised an eyebrow.

“You started it.” He said, smiling at his own joke. Really, Sherlock had no choice but to chuckle, which made Victor laugh, which made Sherlock laugh harder, and soon they were both dissolved into fits of giggles. The laughter slowly dissipated, ending with Victor kissing Sherlock against, chaste but kind.

“I have to break up with Moriarty.” He pointed out softly. Sherlock shrugged, giving a quick nod.

“See you in a few minutes, then.” He replied, smirking slightly. Victor grinned in response and stood up, already halfway to the door by the time he called, “Be right back.” Over his shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> Another viclock AU because my friend and I were talking about Harry Potter houses


End file.
